


Slow Burner

by Nalaliah



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Angst, Cussing, Do we have to tag for alcohol?, F/M, Romance, adam getting teased, alcohol?, farah is adorable, i will die for her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalaliah/pseuds/Nalaliah
Summary: Set at some point during the canon, post book one, possibly even book two, the Detective and Adam continue to act emotionally constipated until a long-overdue emotional outburst brought on by the relentless conspiracy of the other members of Unit Bravo force them to reckon with their feelings like adults for a change. Detective is a bit canon-divergent...couple of other cosmetic things are a bit canon divergent also but you know how it is.
Relationships: Detective/Adam du Mortain, Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Kudos: 7





	1. 1

The detective was looking weary. She was sitting low in the passenger seat, leaning against the door, resting her eyes. It had been a taxing evening. She had been required to attend an event held by Wayhaven’s pompous little cretin of a mayor in honour of the good job that the public servants of the little town had been doing in these “trying times”. Anyone paying a whit of attention could see from the man’s prominently displayed visage on all the promotional flyers and the _suggestion_ that one might consider donating to his re-election effort that this was nothing more than a thinly-veiled campaign event. Madchen was being singled out in particular, and it was generally agreed that her attendance would aid greatly in ensuring her cover remained intact. She was not pleased, but there was no reasonable excuse for her to be absent.

Adam had gone to represent the Agency for their _“role in assisting with the swift delivery of justice”_. The invitation had not been specifically addressed to anyone in particular, but his three teammates made it quite clear that they would rather pull out their own teeth. He would not have dreamed of sending Farah or Morgan anyway, but when Nate emphatically refused he realised immediately they were setting him up to be alone with the detective. Agent Moore was out of town. He was outplayed. The Mayor’s glum reaction to his presence, no doubt because he had been rather hoping for Rebecca Moore, made things marginally more tolerable. Anything that took the wind out of that insipid bureaucrat’s sails was worth it as far as Adam was concerned.

When it was over, they clambered into the Agency car that Adam had been given for the night, and he drove with her the short distance across the village to where she still had an apartment. It was rare that they would return there, as it was by now no longer safe for her to remain there alone overnight and impractical for Unit Bravo to uproot just to keep an eye on her. They were making an exception tonight. That grotesque little worm Bobby Marks had been sniffing about, and as it was likely he would make every effort to tail them from the ceremony to the facility, something Madchen had cleverly anticipated. Even one as tenacious as Bobby would not try to get through Adam du Mortain to harass her, thus they decided for one night only they would return to the flat, and he would stay to keep watch for the night.

They wordlessly debarked from the vehicle, shoes clacking against the asphalt and echoing into the silent night as they approached the block of flats Madchen still tentatively referred to as home. She had already retrieved her keys from the little handbag she was carrying and promptly let them both in the lower door. He watched her go ahead of him, dragging herself up the stairs, clinging to the handrail, struggling in the high pair of black slingbacks she was unused to. Once they got to her floor, she practically fell through the door after unlocking it, causing him to reactively reach for her, but she righted herself in enough time that he did not need to catch her. There was a cold, stale smell in the place now, as it was often sitting unused for weeks at a time. Madchen would pass by every few days to run the taps and ensure it was still secure. Three steps inside, she bent back to tear her heels off and throw them by the shoe stand in the small entryway. It was really just a jutting alcove, a bit of wall that created a space slightly separate from the open plan kitchen and living area. Adam watched her silently as he slipped his coat off and hung it up on the hooks mounted on the wall behind the door. He felt his lip quirk at the haste and huffiness with which she acted; incredibly out of character for the usually stoic detective. She stomped through the place in her stockinged feet, flicking on the lights and tossing her handbag on the little two-seater sofa as she made a beeline for the bedroom. He followed her part way across the small living room area in her tiny open-plan apartment before changing course to stand behind the island countertop in the kitchen space. It wasn’t excessively late, but given the long day she had, he considered she might be turning in early. He looked around the room, considering what he might do to occupy himself for the night. He had a paperback novel in his inside coat pocket he had been waiting for an opportunity to continue reading. That would serve.

Madchen emerged from the bedroom after a moment, struggling with her attire. Her arms were comically twisted at opposite angles around her back. She was scrabbling in vain at the closure at the top of her dress.

“I’m sorry”, she called to him, turning her back, “…could you?”. She was pointing to the hook, eye and zipper combo that was confounding her contortions.

Adam sucked air in his nose, quelling some more _primal_ murmurings as he strode towards her. He pushed her long hair forward over her shoulder, doing his best not to notice how very soft and beautifully red it was, and tucked two fingers beneath the fabric of the garment at the top. Instant embarrassment prickled both sides of his neck as the hair on his arm stood on end at even this most innocuous of contact. Her skin was hot, and blotched with an alcoholic flush, though she had definitely only had the one glass of wine. He contemplated this sensitivity in the back of his mind as he pushed the seam on her garment apart to expose the microscopic black zipper that even at his vantage was hard to grip. He sharply tugged it downward with his free thumb and index finger, and she suddenly gasped in relief as she felt the restrictive fabric release her. He could feel redness creeping into his face as he dragged his eyes away from her naked back, quickly nipping the hook and eye closure together to open it before turning entirely away from her and restoring himself over by the kitchen island.

“Thanks”. She sounded a million miles away. He had retreated to the bottom of the mental hole where he buried all his feelings. He dragged his hands rather forcefully over his face, trying to reconstruct his resolve and banish the image of her undressing from his traitorous brain. When he looked back up she was gone from the room. He cursed for about the fifteenth time that night that he had allowed himself _yet again_ to fall prey to the relentless conspiracy of his colleagues. He considered himself beyond the kind of feeling that would permit him to admit to himself that, all told, it actually kind of _hurt_ that they refused to respect his wishes in this regard. Even Nate. They all decided that they knew what was best, discounting his considerations. His brows drew together as he examined the grain of the engineered countertop. Madchen had made it rather clear she was no more amused. She was equally as closed off as he was. They had never had a conversation about it but it was obvious to everyone that she felt as much discomfort as he did at the risk of closeness, and caught almost as much teasing for it. Watching her struggle with her emotions was like looking in a mirror, however much to his chagrin, she seemed to make far fewer gaffes than he did in front of their co-workers.

It wasn’t meant to turn out like this. When they met, they did not like each other. He had no interest in making concessions to some _human_ , and she was irritated by what she saw as unjustified arrogance. He _had_ been difficult with her…but it was not uncommon for him to treat outsiders with contempt. A defence mechanism, Nate would say. He felt a little ashamed, now that he knew her better. It hadn’t taken long for her to earn his grudging respect, and despite no small amount of locking horns and mortal peril, he had come to enjoy her company. If only it could have stayed at that.

He remembered the night it all went sideways. He remembered the panic creeping into her eyes and her heart rate spiking as he held her against him, covering her scent. For all the good it did. That simple protective gesture had broken nine centuries of resolve and she had still almost died. He felt his heart twisting painfully in his chest. He impatiently awaited the day the memory of her half-dead, gathered in his arms as the rain pounded down on them didn’t make him relive the terror of never seeing her eyes open again.

The sound of a door creaking stirred him out of his morbid reverie. Madchen appeared from her bedroom dressed down in an old academy t-shirt and some truly threadbare sweatpants. They sagged off her waist, exposing an inch high stripe of bare skin across her hip bones. Adam felt a sudden dryness in his mouth.

“I know these things are tragic”, she admitted, gesturing with both arms in the general direction of her lower half, “-they’re all that I have left here to wear”. He was embarrassed to have been caught staring but surprised at her self-conscious response. The clothes she wore in the day time was the most basic and timeless of attire, plain t-shirts and jeans. He could tell from their wear that she favoured value and longevity over style. It hadn’t really occurred to him that she _could_ give thought to her appearance. She employed an almost comical frugality when it came to her own needs, it seemed. He sensed it was perhaps deeper than that. A pathological ignorance of herself. He partly admired, even _envied_ , her ability to survive in such a minimalist fashion, truly divested of any material baggage, but he could not ignore the part of himself that recognised that it might not be entirely healthy. Everything in her life forcefully, _defensively_ , proclaimed her lack of requirement. Her barely functional car. The default furnishings and total lack of decor in this apartment she had been renting for years. All that existed of her in this space were two pairs of shoes, and a gym-bag she left off that morning containing hand wraps, boxing boots and a towel. There was a stack of academic textbooks and non-fiction historical accounts, mostly true crime, on an otherwise bare bookshelf against a wall in the living room area. She often ate standing or walking. She owned exactly one coat. She apparently did not do professional haircuts. Her waist-length hair was bluntly shorn across the bottom, almost certainly with kitchen scissors. She kept it tied in an efficient low ponytail, or a careless bun at the nape of her neck, slung back last-minute…he was always having to stop himself from tucking flyaways behind her ear…

“You’re looking at me funny”, she commented. She had a flat look on her face, clearly interpreting his observation as judgement, “What are you thinking?” He scrambled to come up with words, mouth opening and closing as her eyebrows started to draw together. A warning.

“I, ah…I was just thinking it’s _remarkable_ how you manage your…assets.”

“You think it's sad”, she countered, arms crossed.

“I do not!”

“You do. _Everyone_ does”.

Adam’s protestations dried up. He lowered his face for a moment to collect himself, cursing his lack of guardedness that kept getting him into trouble with her. When he looked up at her, expecting a thoroughly withering stare, he found she did not look angry.

“I don’t see the point in… _things_.”, she supplied, before chewing on her lower lip, “…my therapist had some thoughts”, she admitted, an amused chuckle in her voice. Her eyes, however, were tinged with bitterness.

“I didn’t mean to be so…” Adam began, “I genuinely find it to be an admirable trait. I merely-“

“Its fine, Adam”, her voice was pointedly level, and she uncrossed her arms to hold up a hand as she spoke, halting his chattering, “I’m not offended. It's just fall out from a… _complicated_ history I’d rather not dive into tonight”. He nodded his head, humbled by how reasonable she was. “Its … _nice_ that you care to notice”, she added, kindly, but in a tone that firmly closed the book on that subject. Adam was grateful to leave it there. Madchen strode to the cabinets behind him, stretching high to open one of the topmost doors. He watched her as she went, turning his body to keep his eyes on her. Inside the cupboard were three or four glass containers, filled to varying volumes. She stood on tip-toe, extended as far as her body would allow to grab the neck of a rectangular bottle bearing a black label, amber liquid sloshing around inside as she drew it down.

“Whiskey?” she asked, holding it towards him to inspect.

He was surprised. “I thought you might be turning in for the night”, he said, gesturing a hand at her attire.

“Oh, no”, she shook her head, “I’m still a little wired. I just wanted out of that _dress._ Anyway no offence but its still a little _strange_ to sleep here with someone fully awake in the other room. This…”, she shook the bottle for effect, “…will help _”._ She gave the cap a sharp half-turn, deftly spinning it off the thread with the palm of her hand. She turned up a tumbler that had been idling on the draining board, likely one of only two or three she owned, and started helping herself.

“Are you having one?” she asked again. Adam considered the inside of his mouth some, a waft of the fragrant liquid, sweet and smoky, had hit his nose the minute she took the cap off. He gave her a nod, and she passed the glass she had already poured towards him, fetching a second for herself. He let his lip curl up on one side as he inspected the generous measure. He hadn’t actually looked at the label when she had shown it to him but based on the first sip he could tell it was a surprisingly fine blend. He held it in his mouth, savouring the component flavours in a way that only one of his kind was able. Charred oak, and maple. A fine array of citrus and botanicals. Sweeter overall than one he would choose. It flowed down the throat like silk, lacking the scorch of cheaper drink. It was interesting to him that of all areas in life, alcohol was one in which she evidently employed discrimination. He supposed there were worse things to be discerning about.

Madchen took a spot at the counter, on the opposite side from him, perched on one of the two barstools. She leaned forward, one elbow braced on the counter, one arm tucked along her body, laid flat. She grasped her glass around the rim, level with her eye, her fingers spidered over the top. She turned it slowly, swirling the liquid inside, the overhead spotlights winking off the surface. Adam examined her with some fascination. She had not yet removed the face of makeup he imagined she had been strongarmed into wearing. There was a heavy border of black kohl lining her pale eyes, making them look extremely stark. She had the definition of a stony glare, a hard expression exacerbated by a wintery shade of grey-blue. There were the beginnings of lines between her brows where they were often drawn in shrewd deliberation. Her stare gave little away, leaving most with the impression that she was cold. Spend enough time with her however and it became notable there crept in a softness at times that betrayed her unfailingly kind heart. It was a trait that had given Adam no end of grief. That exasperating compulsion to put herself second. It offended him insofar as it made his job more difficult, though he was willing to admit at this stage that the thought of her coming to harm filled him with an abundance of existential dread. He wasn’t sure he could exist the other side of that possibility.

He had no doubt her altruism had betrayed her when he saw her emerge scowling from Tina’s little hatchback all dressed up for the event earlier that evening. He had been waiting on the pavement outside the venue (Wayhaven’s _only_ hotel), when they pulled up, a little late. He almost didn’t recognise her. It was as if she was attempting to appear in disguise. She looked entirely not herself, and suitably awkward about it. She was trussed up in a form-fitting black dress, sleeveless and cut quite low in the front. The designers kindly supplied some utterly useless mesh about halfway up the neckline to function as a modesty panel. The garment clung in only the way viscose masquerading as silk could, giving the figure she so often swaddled in oversized t-shirts tucked into jeans almost cartoonishly curvy proportions by contrast. It was… _something._ Seeing her terrible discomfort, however, he rather felt he preferred her in her day wear. The easy, no-nonsense parts of her character were swapped for a terrible anxiety in this incarnation. She _looked_ good, but at the expense of some of the things he liked best.

He remembered her rather slow, experimental steps in her heels as she crossed the pavement. They weren’t sky high, but she was not practised in them. She wasn’t even halfway to him when she reached out a desperate arm, her eyes wide and begging him to rescue her from the horrors she had endured the entire afternoon as her well-meaning co-worker played dress up with her person. She was like a parched man in the desert, if good sense was water. It seemed Adam was a cool oasis in this analogy based on how Madchen was clinging to him, both hands wrapped bracingly around his bicep, hugging his limb close as she leaned on him for balance. Tina seemed entirely thrilled with her work, making sure to draw agonizing attention to Madchen’s appearance.

 _“What do you think of_ this _?! Who knew all_ this _was hiding under those shapeless clothes? I mean_ look _at her! Look at those_ legs _!”_

 _“Please don’t make me look at her legs”,_ Adam screamed internally, looking fairly deliberately into the sky overhead. Tina bid them good evening and said she would meet them inside, giggling and giving them both a wink that earned her matching scowls from the pair of them. Adam was extremely glad not to have to make conversation. He was not built to endure that much foolishness. He got enough of it from Farah. God, if _those two_ were ever permitted to interact in earnest. He stared into his glass of whiskey, as though he would find succour for that terrible thought at the bottom of it.

Madchen had made an apology for her appearance then, too, but he had been too focussed on his own immediate discomfort to be kind to her in the moment. Presently, he felt he regretted it, she had needed him to support her, even _if_ the entire thing would have been better resolved by her simply dressing as she liked.

“Why wear it if it made you feel so uncomfortable?”, he asked with some curiosity. Madchen stared blankly at him.

“What?”

“The dress.”

“Oh…”, she said, with a reflective pause, “Well…Tina is a good friend…she’s had to put up with a lot from me.” He raised his eyebrows, not quite considering that a real answer. Madchen fidgeted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “…she was excited to pick it out”, she elaborated, after a silence, “I felt it was important to her that I wear it. It was just for one evening, anyway…not a big deal”.

It was not the kind of concession _he_ would make for a friend, and he wondered exactly what she meant when she said that Tina had “put up with a lot”. He rather thought that Madchen put up with quite a lot from Tina. He watched her take a full swallow from her glass, her brows pinching together a little. She was processing… _something_. He waited.

“…it was mortifying”, she admitted finally, a deadness creeping into her eyes as she was emotionally sucked backwards in time. “You must have thought it was utterly ridiculous”. Her free hand came up to soothe her temple as humiliation gripped her. Adam couldn’t help as a smile snuck on to his face again.

“It was…quite a surprise”, he mused, enjoying a light-hearted moment at her expense. “You looked well, however”.

She gave a derisive snort at his turn of phrase. “I should hope I looked a little better than _well_ for what I went through to get into the damned thing. I felt like a tied ham". Adam gave an amused chuckle.

“Perhaps _well_ is insufficient. You looked very elegant….if somewhat tormented". She barked out a laugh, _ha!_ , and gave him a bright grin. He couldn’t help himself, his mouth pulled itself into a broad smirk, showing his teeth. Her eyes softened as she saw it, and he felt an all too familiar tingle trouble the inside of his skin.

“I should probably make more of an effort, generally.”, she commented, a little regret in her tone. Her smile dimmed as she turned her gaze down. Adam would have stopped himself if he could, but the words were out before he fully considered them.

“You are perfect as you are”.

She looked up as he felt that tingle bloom over his face in a red flush. He had crossed that line again, but he could not take it back now. He saw a great swell of emotion threaten to burst from her, as her eyes grew slightly wide and glassy, but biting down on her back teeth, clenching her jaw tightly, he watched her swallow it.

“Thank you”, she said, quietly, trying to hide the quake in her voice. She made no further comment, content to drop into silence. The awkwardness was now quite thick between them. With any luck she might finish her drink in one, and turn in. Adam was doing his best to ignore the pangs in his chest that were screaming at him to launch into a stream of consciousness declaration about how he found her beauty constant, and it undid him to see her so much as give him a warm glance. That he wanted to touch her. Hold her. That the sound of her laughter filled him with a lightness he had not known in his full memory. He resisted, but he found the heaviness that followed these close calls wearing. He did not know how much regret he could take, knowing that she too found this whole thing confusing and painful. The feeling that he might be able to bring her some modicum of joy in giving in to his desires was a powerful and treacherous temptation.

“Another?” Disturbed out of his pensive silence, he started slightly. She was holding out the bottle to him again, half cocked, prepared to pour. He glanced down at his glass and saw that it was in fact, empty. Sighing, he pushed it towards her with the tips of his fingers.

“Go on”, he said. She poured as generously as before, and repeated the action to top up her own drink. There was a distinct depression blanketing the room now, and neither could quite look the other in the eye. Suddenly, a muffled buzzing cut through the dense atmosphere, and Madchen leapt up from where she sat to inspect the source. Her phone had gone off inside the tiny purse she had borrowed from Tina for the night. She padded barefoot over to the sofa, the soles of her feet sounding sticky on the laminate half of the floor. She lifted the little black bag in one hand, angling it slightly towards the light as she looked inside for the device that was inconveniently also a dark colour. She made a small affirmative noise as she unearthed it, tossing the bag back down and orienting the phone correctly in order to unlock it.

“My mother is texting me”, her voice betrayed nothing, but Adam was aware that their relationship was fractious at best. Machen seated herself on the front edge of the couch, and bent over the screen to read. He watched her eyes flicking back and forth, and her mouth thinning into a dour line as she absorbed what was in the message. “Nothing urgent”, she said finally, locking the device and placing it on the arm of the sofa. She leaned back against the couch cushions and rubbed a weary hand across her face before looking longingly at her whiskey, abandoned across the room. Adam rounded the counter without hesitation, plucking the glass up with his free hand and transporting it over to her. She lifted her whole arm to meet his halfway as he began to reach out to give it to her, a genial smile reappearing on her face.

“Kind of you”, she commented. She was beginning to look tired. It was getting quite late. Adam stared out the front window into the inky dark beyond.

“Did Agent Moore have _anything_ to say?” he asked. She had said it was not urgent, but that did not mean it was nothing.

“No, just congratulations. And a jab about not being able to make it but that I probably wouldn’t have wanted her there anyway”. Madchen gave an unimpressed look at the phone, as though her sentiment might travel through it towards the intended target.

“You…don’t get on well with her”. Adam knew it was a redundant statement, but he was curious. They were strikingly alike in looks, but that is where the similarities largely ended. Rebecca was a shrewd operator, cunning, uncompromising, but proud and put-together in a way that Madchen was not. Madchen lacked her mother’s charisma, but she was extremely tough and very insightful. It was a curious dichotomy. Rebecca appeared much more amiable, but was largely calculating. Madchen was all heart, but hid it behind walls of stoicism. She also planned for plans to fail, something her mother struggled with, though it was not something she was often confronted by. He had a profound respect for Rebecca Moore, beyond any he had managed to manifest for a human before meeting her daughter. Yet another complicating factor in finding said daughter so extremely alluring.

Madchen sighed. “No, not entirely. My mother has a tendency to…interfere. She is largely the reason I am here in Wayhaven and not off somewhere else, although she would deny it”. Adam _had_ wondered why someone like Madchen would resign herself to life in a small town such as this. She had a grit that didn’t fit with the backdrop, like she was miscast in her own life. He had actively considered it something of a loss for the Agency that she had not been inducted sooner. He had no doubt Rebecca had the capacity to wield as much influence as Madchen gave her credit for. The fact that he was in Madchen’s life was a direct result of the Rebecca’s machinations. He had initially agreed that Madchen should be kept in the dark about their presence in Wayhaven, but having got to know her he honestly wondered why Rebecca thought it was even _possible_ to hide her hand in directing her daughter’s life. It was not difficult to see why such a thing would breed resentment in someone as astute and strong-willed as the woman before him.

“You have never left Wayhaven?” he asked, taking a seat beside her.

“Oh no, I’ve left more than once”, Madchen explained, “I always seem to end up back here. It’s like some _Truman Show_ shit”. Her eyes narrowed, and she took another deep drink. Adam didn’t get the reference but he guessed it was like a “rat in a maze” scenario. Grim, if true. Almost certainly suffocating. But perhaps for the best?

“I am sure she is acting for your protection…” he offered, though it was mostly out of obligatory fealty to his boss. He clenched his teeth a little as he said it, and hoped his tone conveyed that he was not trying to invalidate her feelings.

“Yes. I know her intentions.”, Madchen gave a weighty sigh, “But it feels terrible to not be in control of my own life”. She looked miserable when she said it. So miserable he almost reached for her hand. “I just want something that is entirely mine…if that makes sense. Something about _me_ that isn’t anything to do with _her._ ” She pressed a hand to her chest as she spoke, emphasising this need she had for self-ownership. It was not lost on Adam that these last several months she had been increasingly losing her independence. She was in so much danger. But having her movements restricted, being watched all the time…being forced to all but abandon her home…it could not have been easy on someone so apparently yearning for freedom. He hoped she did not resent them too. “I just wish, if she was going to leave me alone, that she would have left me _alone_. Instead I’m just _haunted_ by my own mother”, Madchen’s face grew increasingly twisted, and her tone bitter as she spoke. “I think-…I feel-…” she stopped, words temporarily failing her, “I don’t think she _gets_ that I’m a whole…person”, she finished, looking drained.

“I’m not sure that’s true”, Adam interjected quietly, in a tentative effort at comfort. He wasn’t often given to platitudes but he had never heard Madchen so pained. She usually went out of her way to ensure others were unbothered by her discomfort. Her forthrightness in this threw him off. His attempt was rewarded with yet another weary exhalation.

“Adam…she named me _girl…”_ Madchen. _Mädchen_. Right. That choice did not reflect an overabundance of ambition for one’s only child. Like naming a cat “ _cat”._

“There is a chance that her viewpoint has… _evolved_ , perhaps?” he offered, weakly. He was relieved when Madchen laughed.

“Who knows…”, she shook her head, still chuckling lightly, “Maybe. Sorry for-“

“Please don’t apologise”, he implored, giving her a gentle look , “I should not have asked. It was improper.”

“I don’t mind that you asked…” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her abdomen, in a self-soothing gesture. Her left hand absently scratched the skin just beneath the sleeve of her overlarge t-shirt.

“I should bed down”, she said, after another brief silence, “There’s nothing scheduled for tomorrow is there?”

“It’s Sunday”, he supplied, “…so not as far as I’m aware. Although…” he trailed off, meeting her eye. He could tell from her expression that she understood as well as he did that anything could happen in their line of work. He stood up with her as she intended to leave, a polite habit he had, and reached to take her empty glass.

“Thank you. Feel free to read or…have more of that”, she cast her eyes down on the glass now suspended between their two grasping hands. He smiled at the offer, his fingers grazing hers as he asserted his grip on the empty vessel, tugging it from her slackened hold.

“Well, goodnight”, she said, quietly, her lowered gaze flicking up to meet his. When they were relaxed like this, and her eyes were rid of their steel, he felt like he could see for miles inside their depth. They were diaphanous, inquisitive rather than interrogative, and looking into them made the world outside their bodies feel somehow unreal.

“Goodnight”, he replied, equally gentle. His hand came up to just touch the underside of her jaw, causing her to slightly lift her chin. He leaned in, and mildly marvelled in the warmth and softness of her lips when suddenly a spike of alarm pierced his consciousness.

He drew back, panicked, his eyes wide and witness to the shades of dismay and pain erupting on her face. She touched the tips of her shaking fingers to her mouth, disbelieving of what had just happened. Adam felt himself contorted between crossing signals in his brain. Turn. _Run!_ Reach out! _Say something!_

“I- why would you-…sorry-”, she choked. He opened his mouth, staggering over some noises in an attempt to express his regret but she had already turned away, fleeing from his presence to her bedroom. She gave him a fleeting, unreadable look over her shoulder at the last moment, before firmly shutting the door on him.

He was unable to move, or breathe. His chest felt like it was collapsing in the vacuum of her absence. Every hair on his body was standing on end, and his skin felt like it was being pricked by a thousand pins. The room felt huge, he was overwhelmed by its vastness. He was at once shrunken and engulfed by the oppressive hollowness of the atmosphere. He had to explain himself, to mitigate this somehow, but he couldn’t lift his feet. He stood frozen, time at a full stop, until at last after either hours or seconds, the panic gave way. He was lightheaded, swaying on stiff legs. He gingerly lowered himself back down onto the small sofa, depositing the empty glassware he still had gripped in his hands on the carpet at his feet before leaning forward against his knees, burying his whole face in his hands.

 _“You absolute imbecile! You complete and utter idiot!”,_ he castigated himself, feeling shame at his weakness and indulgence. He should not have let himself get so comfortable. He should have _insisted_ that someone else accompany her for the evening. He should not have been so confident when he _knew_ she made him susceptible to a lack of good judgement. Her presence made him totally reactive. He tried to keep his focus on his professional failure, but he was unable to quell the river of grief flowing into him as he felt their tentative rapport was well and truly wrecked. He had sincerely hoped, as time went on, that their mutual infatuation would fade, and things could be normal between them. She always made her best effort to keep her distance, she never pushed for more. He was grateful to her for that. He knew it had to be causing her as much misery as it caused him. He had made a mockery of her suffering with his complete failure to stay in control.

Sighing, he sat up straight, willing himself to calm down. He focussed his senses, cocking an ear towards her door to try and hear her on the other side. He couldn’t make out much, if she was awake, she was not restless. He chose to assume, as a manner of self-comfort, that her inactivity meant his foolishness had not caused her to lose sleep. He ran his hands over his shorn hair, lacing his fingers across the back of his neck and leaning forward again, trying to make himself small. He considered leaving, calling one of the others to stay and keep watch over her, but he couldn’t think of a way to explain himself, and he did not particularly want to put up with their probing. All that was left was to while away the few hours to morning, and consider how to deal with it when he had to face her.

His wallowing was intruded upon by the sharp buzz of the mobile phone left on the arm of the sofa. Adam jerked his head up and looked over at the brightly lit screen, his brain playing catch-up with his senses. He recognised Tina’s name on the lockscreen, and almost looked away again, but the crown of red hair pictured on the partly visible message caught his eye. He picked up the phone, and slowly, as though his display of reluctance somehow made up for the intrusion, he tapped on the image to view it.

It could have been taken at any moment over the evening, he had no memory of the specifics. Himself and the Detective, leaning against the bar, her in the image foreground facing slightly away from the camera, her deep auburn hair streaming down her back. She was looking towards something that could not be seen in the picture, presumably one of the many onerous speeches that had taken up most of their time. Adam had had no interest in it. He was merely there to ensure Madchen’s safety. His apathy was on full display, for there he was, imposing in the background, entirely focussed on the woman at his side.

He studied the image of her, his face a mirror of the one he wore in the photo. She was so beautiful. He followed the line of her profile, from her hairline, to her eyes, half-lidded in tedium and framed with soft lashes. Her nose gently sloped, interrupted by a bump where she had taken an errant elbow during a sparring match many years ago, a story she had regaled to Farah after the young vampire rather rudely inquired. His eyes continued on. Her lips. His introspection was halted by the intrusive memory of them pressed against his. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to appreciate in retrospect what he had experienced. The feeling of being so close to her. The warmth of her skin against his.

He looked again at the picture, at her lips. They were painted red, as they had been when he kissed her. He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, and sure enough, two bright streaks of crimson came away on his skin. A warped facsimile as a memento of that wonderful and terrible moment that was at once, too much, and not nearly enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her parents actually named her after Mädchen Amick because they love Twin Peaks but the detective doesn’t know the actress’s name and I’m guessing Adam has never seen the show. Prob secretly loves the X-Files tho.


	2. 2

The sudden shrieking sound of exceptionally loud alarm bells nearly made him jump out of his skin. Head whipping about, he searched frantically for the source of the noise blaring against his sensitive eardrums. Adam passively realised he was still on Madchen’s small sofa, and passing a hand along the surface of the seat next to him he managed to extract her phone from the gap between it and the arm. Gritting his teeth against the wailing chimes, he furiously swiped over the icon to dismiss the alarm she had set with his index finger, finally silencing it on the third or fourth try. Without truly thinking the flung the thing back across the sofa, growling. Exhaling heavily, he rubbed both his hands over his face and hair, trying to get his brain to process everything he was experiencing. His skin felt a little tight, and his eyes burned slightly against the bright sunlight now filling the little apartment. He sat for a brief moment with his hand cupped over his mouth and chin, eyes flitting back and forth as though some clue to this mystery might be inscribed on the carpet. Had…had he fallen _asleep?_ On top of everything else? He groaned, burying himself back behind his hands before a voice called out from the kitchen and caused him to almost lose his life again.

“Sorry”, Madchen called to him around a mouthful of what was, presumably, breakfast, “I forgot I had an alarm set”. Adam raised his face from his hands and looked at her incredulously, not quite able to foment a response to that. The tinking sound of her spoon against the side of her cereal bowl was all that occupied the air for a minute or two until she finally laid it down and brought her dishes to the sink. He could hear the sound of her running the tap. Adam could not see what she was doing with her back to him, but a moment later she placed both bowl and spoon face down on the draining board. She turned and walked roughly halfway across the room before coming to a stop about five paces from where he sat, folding her arms. “You were asleep…I wasn’t sure what the deal was with that so I just left you.” Adam swallowed before he spoke, his throat still dry after having woken.

“What time is it?” he asked, yet sounding more than a little out of it.

“Still early-ish, around seven”, Madchen supplied. She remained standing in a defensive posture but there was an unsure air hanging about her. She was rocking anxiously on her feet slightly. Adam was glad to hear it was still a reasonable hour.

“I apologise”, he said, standing up. His whole body felt uncomfortable, having been slumped strangely for several hours. His joints were complaining.

“Apologise for what?” she asked, quirking her head and letting her arms fall to her sides.

“I was supposed to be keeping watch”, he muttered, frowning in self-directed scorn. _Ridiculous_ that he had failed to stay awake. He hadn’t even felt _tired_. This was a first, and if he didn’t feel so _fucking terrible_ after spending the night sitting upright on the couch he would have the capacity to be extremely perturbed by it. As it was, he mostly just felt sorry for himself.

“You must have needed the rest,” Madchen offered, shrugging. Adam rubbed the side of his neck as he stretched it to one side, wincing at the stiffness. He rolled his shoulders in their sockets. He wasn’t sure he particularly wished to examine the cause of his sudden somnolence, but he made a mental note to mention it to Nate later in case it might be serious. His mind wandered to the last thing he could recall from the previous night. He turned his upper body towards the crack in the sofa he had thrown her phone back into and pointed.

“You received a message”.

Madchen mouthed “Oh”, and went to retrieve her phone. He wandered away from her, back over to the kitchen island and parked himself with his back against the counter. It was his preferred spot to stand in her apartment. A vantage point where he could survey the entire room and all entrances. From his foxhole he studied her, crouched over the screen. Her long hair was half out of its ponytail, strands falling about her face. He felt a phantom sensation run down his arm, into his hand, as he always did when he saw it like that. A perpetual urge to reach out and tuck the errant locks gently back behind her ears, out of her way. Adam watched her bring the tip of her right thumb to her mouth, trapping the end of her fingernail between her front teeth. A distracted habit she had when she was reading. After a moment, she squinted at the screen and held the device back, slightly farther away from her face, presumably trying to inspect the image sent last night from Tina.

“Ugh”, her face twisted into a pained grimace, “I look like my _mother_ ”. Madchen moved closer to him, inspecting the image still, before coming to stand side by side with him, holding the device out so he could look at the picture with her. He was extremely aware of the position of her free arm. Rather than stand with it trapped between their bodies, she slid it along the countertop behind his back, enabling her to stand close enough to him to comfortably examine the small screen at the same time. He moved his body forward a fraction, ensuring they did not make contact.

“Don’t you think?” she queried. She was naturally unaware of the fact that he already knew what it looked like. Adam shifted in place slightly, not entirely sure what was the appropriate course of action here. He wasn’t inclined to afford this kind of analysis to photographs unless they were of people who were dead or missing or had made someone else dead or missing. He thought there were _worse_ people on earth to look like than Rebecca Moore, she was always very put-together, but he genuinely didn’t consider Madchen to have inhabited her mother’s particular air, despite being dressed up. But they did look _similar._ They looked similar _anyway_. So, yes…she did look like her mother, and the outfit made her look a little more like her mother. But did he think she looked like her mother? No. Yes? He looked at the picture and he saw Madchen. So no…at least he thought he thought no. He felt under terrible pressure at that moment, his brain doing a familiar tailspin in a situation where he could conceive of no good answer. At a loss, he opted for simplicity.

“I think you look like yourself”. Madchen gave him a sidelong glance. Adam felt a little afraid he had still managed to be insulting somehow. “I mean-…you _look_ like her. You…look similar to her. But you’re not _like_ her”, he rambled, absolutely begging to be struck by lightning. He steeled himself in preparation for her disapproval. It was her own fault for asking fool questions anyway!

“…I see. That’s…thank you”, she said, tipping her head thoughtfully. “You look handsome”, she remarked, gently tracing a finger around his figure in the background. Adam whipped his face to look at her so quickly something in his neck certainly cracked. He could not tell if he was being mocked in some uncharacteristic display of impishness, or this was some cruel punishment for his behaviour the previous night that he had yet to figure out. Her expression gave absolutely nothing away. She had swiped the image aside and was now examining the dozen or so others that had been sent along with it, chewing on her thumbnail again, in a perfect display of innocence. He settled back against the counter, his arms crossed tightly as he stared in anxious silence out into the small living space. A small part of his brain, the bit not currently occupied with unravelling the _oddness_ of the morning so far, kept replaying the sound of her calling him handsome on a loop.

“I wasn’t sure you’d still be here this morning”, she said, suddenly. Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

He sighed. “I…I didn’t want to have to explain to the others”. She raised her eyebrows, apparently of the opinion that she thought him rather above feeling the need to explain. He inhaled a steadying breath and broke eye contact.

“I suppose you’ll want to be heading back to the facility soon”, she suggested, changing the subject.

“Yes”, he nodded, grateful for the diversion, “I should like to get back there before long unless you have something to do here”.

“No, not as such. We should try to fit in some training today if we can. I didn’t even get out for a run yesterday”.

“You should not be running in the open anyway”, he asserted, earning a heavy groan from her in return.

“I _can’t_ do all my exercise in the facility. I…need to clear my head sometimes. I like running in the woods, it's not like I go far.” Adam was about to make another quip about security, but he remembered her comments the previous night. Perhaps she was feeling confined? She looked enquiringly at him. “What if…someone kept a watch? Not accompany me, it’d be of no value to any of you in going at my pace anyway…but…just for-“ she paused, “…would you do it?”

“What?”

“ _You_. Would you watch out for me? I only run for an hour. I am not sure the others would understand why I want them to remain at a distance”. She was chewing on her lower lip. He could tell she was anticipating his refusal. He considered for a brief moment. There were plenty of reasons it was a bad idea. It was dangerous. They had perfectly good treadmills back at the base. It was a demand on his time. He could see in her eyes, however, it was something she wanted badly. The word “No” was sitting on the very tip of his tongue, every rational instinct in him was demanding logic. But, it was theoretically possible…and unlikely she would be targeted so close to the facility. After a momentary fight with himself, he gave a consenting nod.

“Yes.”

She looked for a moment like she might throw herself at him, but managed to contain herself at the last second. “Thank you! I realise it's asking a lot”.

“If it helps to improve your state of mind, then…it is worth facilitating”.

“I appreciate it, Adam”, the relief was visible on her face, it was one step farther away from total captivity. He could tell that she genuinely valued the favour. It made him happy to see her look this excited.

“I will try to make time this evening, if you would like. Provided nothing comes crashing in on us I don’t see any reason it shouldn’t be feasible”.

“Don’t speak too soon….things crash in on us all the time”, she chuckled, before rapping a knuckle on the wooden countertop. “Let me get my things together. I won’t be long”. She almost skipped from the kitchen, leaving a buoyant atmosphere in her wake. Adam took a deep breath, sucking in second-hand mirth from the air. He didn’t know when he had ever seen her behave so outwardly happy. He knew she could not have noticed how open she was being, or she would have shut it down without second thought. His heart felt like it would explode with affection for her. His rational edge feebly protested somewhere in the very back of his mind, but the overwhelming feeling of being able to bring her this joy left no room to feel remorse. He was soaring.

The drive back to the facility was quiet and uneventful. There was a comfortable peace between them which was much more than Adam could ever have asked for given the disaster of the night before. Madchen looked out the passenger side window, her chin propped up on her hand. She was now dressed in her usual functional attire, grey cotton t-shirt and jeans, a pair of black leather boots and her olive green waxed jacket over the top. Adam stole a glance at her during a pause at an intersection and was pleased to see her still smiling.

Had he been less distracted, he might have better prepared himself for the welcome they would receive on arriving back at the base. Farah came barrelling up onto the warehouse floor before they had even fully swung the outer door open. She cleared the distance to them in about three bounds. Her huge amber eyes were wide, scanning them up and down as if any scandalous news might be written on their outsides.

“Sooooo… _you_ two look happy”, she waggled her eyebrows obscenely, and Adam’s face crumpled immediately into a scowl.

“Hello Farah”, Madchen greeted in a resigned monotone, her eye sliding sideways to give Adam a knowing glance. The young vampire immediately latched onto her, grabbing Madchen’s shoulders with both hands. She was so overloaded with excitable energy it was making her wiggly.

“Something happened! I know it! _Finally!_ ”, she grinned. Adam gritted his teeth, trying to deter Farah from any further foolishness with a levelling glare, but she was far beyond the point where she could be daunted by empty intimidation. She grinned back and forth between them. Madchen’s expression was unmoving and unreadable. Farah could read Adam like a book, however, and Adam knew it. He growled menacingly, shoving his hands in his pockets, and stomped towards the inside entrance that Farah had banged her way through a moment ago. He was fleeing the scene, abandoning Madchen to deal with a situation he had to concede she was much better equipped to cope with than he. Just as he passed the threshold, he heard Farah giggling and then in hushed tones hassling _“Tell me everything!”._ He had every confidence Madchen would not. Still, this forced retreat really bruised the ego.

He wasn’t twenty foot along the first hallway when he spied Nate leaning against the wall waiting for him. Apparently, they were _all_ impatiently anticipating the results of their conspiratorial activity in trapping him overnight with the subject of his affections. He was in no mood for it at this point, partly because it was _ridiculous_ , but mostly because they had been marginally successful in making a complete fool out of him and his pride couldn’t handle it. He _hated_ it. At least Morgan didn’t give a shit. He considered marching past Nate, having endured as much humiliation as he cared to (not terribly difficult when the sum quantity was none), but as his old friend gave him a careful smile and raised an eyebrow he slowed, allowing Nate to turn and fall into step beside him.

“How was your evening?” Nate asked. Adam could read enough in his tone that he was genuinely asking about the night’s proceedings and not being an asshole.

“It was uneventful”, Adam replied, flatly, unwilling to get into the weeds until he was feeling calmer.

“Good to hear”.

“Did anything occur while we were gone?”, Adam asked, very much hoping to have satisfied the former line of enquiry. He was heading for his quarters, hoping to change out of his shirt and slacks and into something more practical. There was always plenty of admin to do, but he had already made up his mind that most of his day was going to be spent punching something.

“Nothing. Quite literally nothing. I did manage to unearth some fascinating accounts of the fall of the Merovingian Dynasty, but nothing Agency related. It was a good weekend for it”. By “it” he presumably meant Adam’s absence. “Oh, I did have to physically restrain Morgan from bringing harm to Farah at one point because she was getting somewhat irrepressibly excited about the fact that you and our detective were spending the night together-“

“We did _not_ -!”

“-night _away!_ Spending the night _away_ together”, Nate raised his hands in his own defence, “I misspoke”. Adam narrowed his eyes, his blood pressure increasing exponentially. There was a whiff of mischief about Nathaniel that he didn’t one bit appreciate. They fell into a gravid lull, but at long last Adam saw the door to his room. He grabbed the handle, jamming his keycard in the authenticator with perhaps a little too much desperation. As the lock clicked, Nate gave a quiet cough behind Adam’s back.

“So, _nothing_ of interest took place yesterday?” Adam stopped short at the enquiry, turning his narrowed gaze back over his shoulder at the other man.

“No”, he said, with no small amount of suspicion.

“Are you _quite sure?”_ Nate prodded further. The knowing glint in his eye was making Adam _furious_.

“I am _quite sure_ , Nate. Why do you persist in asking me?!” he spat. Nate blinked slowly, his expression melting into a sanguine smile.

“My friend”, he began delicately, “there is _lipstick_ on the back of your hand…like one might have if, say, they had wiped it from their face”. Leaving Adam speechless and scarlet up to his ears, Nate turned away without another word. Humming cheerfully to himself, he strode back up the hall towards the library.

Adam stood stunned for a solid sixty seconds. He glanced down at the red streaks still present on the back of his hand. If he did not know better he would be given to believe that the universe itself was conspiring against him. He wheeled into his room, violently slamming the door behind him. He stripped off immediately, not wishing to spend another second in last night’s attire. He vigorously rubbed the marks on his hand with his dress shirt and discarded it on the floor in a pile with the rest of his clothing. He did not care if the shirt was ruined. He was determined to divest himself entirely of all evidence of the whole accursed evening. He grabbed some training gear from the chest of drawers and dressed to go boxing. He fully intended to exhaust himself enacting violence against his newfound demons in the training room. He would do it until nightfall if necessary. Then he would have a _reason_ to fall asleep.

It was not to be, for at roughly four o’clock in the afternoon, a gentle knock sounded against the outside of the training room door.

“ _WHAT?”_ Adam roared, not looking around from where he was pummelling his bare fists into the rough reinforced canvas of a heavy bag, suspended from the ceiling. He had successfully wrought the devastation he intended, luckily they were quite well equipped to cope with his particular predilection for both bad moods and _extra_ supernatural strength. It would matter little that he had shredded his way through several pieces of equipment. The Agency liked to dock his pay in some weak effort at imposing consequences, a reminder to him to _try_ to control himself before breaking something. He did not think today required such consideration, today was all about indulgence, and tomorrow he would have his shit together. A small noise behind him broke him out of his fervour. He snarled in annoyance and dropped his fists, panting.

“Adam?”. It was her. He put his hands on his hips and bent his neck to look at the floor between his feet, trying to generate enough focus to calm himself so that he could speak to her civilly.

“What is it?” he said, not turning to look at her.

“I’m sorry”, her voice sounded very gentle and full of concern, “Nate said you’ve been in here the entire day…he was worried. He asked me to see if you were alright.” Adam gave a long, narrow stare at the sound of Nate’s name. He was still furious at them all.

“I’m fine”, he said, still not making an effort to look at her.

“Has…has something happened?” she asked, tentatively, “What’s upset you?” He could feel her come closer to him. He closed his eyes for a second, praying she wouldn’t try to touch him. He saw her appear in his eyeline, to the side. She was giving him a very anxious look.

“I don’t wish to discuss it”, he stated, bluntly. He could also not believe she did not know.

“I...I was trying to catch up on work myself…I didn’t realise…Are you sure you’re okay?”, she rambled, talking just to keep talking, too disturbed by his distressed state to leave him be. He felt the rage-fueled energy he had built up dissipating the longer she stood near him, sapping both his mind and body of strength. His breath wheezed out of him, sweat steadily pouring from his hairline, down his face. His entire back was soaked. After a moment spent reinforcing his resolve, he turned to grant her attention.

“Tell Nate I am fine”, he said, as an order, in a last-ditch effort to be rid of her. Her expression was making him feel guilty for causing her worry. He didn’t need that right at this moment. He was trying to purge all that nonsense.

“Adam…” she began, looking at him with such a soft face on he could feel his resolve eroding frighteningly fast, “…please”. Before she truly made a move to reach out, Adam jerked his hand up and made space between him and her. If she touched him, he felt like it could kill him. He could feel his skin burning at the perceived point of contact. She curled her extended hand back, respecting his caginess but he noted she spread her feet apart slightly, taking on a more robust stance. She was here to stay.

“Please”, he returned her appeal, his voice sounding pitifully strangled. He watched her run a gamut of tactics in her mind, pulling her bottom lip in under her top teeth as she studied him, looking for a crack in his armour she could exploit, and get him to spill his guts. He was currently all cracks. He was prepared to beg her.

“Okay”, she breathed, finally. Mercy! “But you should take a break.” The solace that flooded his system made him feel momentarily faded. Suddenly, the toll of the day’s exertions came to bear down on him. He bent his legs and fell back to sit on the mats right beneath where he was standing, bracing his hands behind him. He heard her give a small laugh from above him, and when he looked up he could see her shining with happiness and relief. It washed over him, into his skin, and despite ultimately losing yet _another_ battle of wills he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll tell Nate you’re fine”, she said, “Morgan mentioned wanting to use the room…should I tell her she can join you or would you prefer she wait until later?” Adam shook his head.

“No. I’m done”, he replied, wiping a hand over his brow, recovered enough to stand again. Madchen’s eyes followed him as he went from below to above her eye level. He suddenly remembered he had made a promise to her earlier in the day. “You wanted to go running”, he recalled. She smiled up at him.

“I did. I still do, if you’re willing to look out for me”. Adam nodded, feeling like some fresh air would do him a world of good.

“Allow me some time to shower and change. I will meet you outside”.

They walked together to the door, Adam opening it and holding it back for her to proceed ahead of him. Morgan’s looming figure was propped against the wall just outside. She raised her eyebrows, looking incredulous at Madchen’s successful intervention as Adam appeared from the doorway behind her.

“It’s all yours”, Madchen said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder as they passed her. Morgan made a satisfied grunt that presumably functioned as gratitude and sauntered into the training room. Half a second later they heard her yelling from where they were at down the hall.

“Jesus Christ! Come _on_ , Adam! It’s completely _fucked_ in here!”

It was already turning to dusk just as Madchen was due to complete her circuit. Adam had supplied her with an ordinary coaches whistle to alert him should anything even remotely unnerving occur on the trail. He was perched on a scaffolding platform near the top of the warehouse, high enough that he could see far between the trees, but not up so high that the foliage obscured the ground. He could descend easily at speed, should it be necessary. It was a crisp evening. Dry, with a light, cool breeze blowing. Perfect for running. Adam could appreciate why Madchen was unwilling to sacrifice it. He closed his eyes. It required no small amount of concentration, but if he focussed hard and held his breath, he could hear the reassuring rhythmic thump of her trainers against the dirt in the distance.

Every so often he would catch a glimpse of her, a flash of her pale figure flitting between the trees. He did his best not to spend too much time staring, his actual task was to look for threats _approaching_ her person. If he spotted one while looking at her he had rather woefully failed. He couldn’t entirely help it, though. She was no supernatural, obviously, but even for a human she was in very good shape, able to keep a good pace. He admired her form and her focus. She had come to them with some experience in combat training, and it was obvious that she worked on her skills. She had tried to pick his brains on several occasions regarding this mutual interest of theirs but he had always ended up cutting it short and pushing her away. Adam felt hot guilt pool in his gut. He would subsequently avoid her presence, and always aim to be elsewhere and leaving rooms when she entered. He frowned, realising it had been some time since she had tried to engage him in that way.

He realised it was pulling him away from Unit Bravo also. As they grew to accept her, they opened themselves up to her. Farah adored her like a sister. Nate appreciated her earnestness, sought her out for conversation and enjoyed having a new audience for his bottomless knowledge of supernatural lore. Even Morgan no longer treated her with outright hostility, and more than once she had made herself available to conduct business with the detective that took them away from the facility. Adam’s fear of his own emotions was closing him off from all of it.

But, he _couldn’t._ It was so dangerous. He had decided long ago that he was not willing to indulge in anything that would render him weak. He was dedicated to his unit and his mission. That was enough exposure for him. No matter the others’ opinions on it. They did not understand. His desires were not relevant. He could not risk them all for something so self-indulgent. Not his team, not the Agency, and not Madchen. It was too much to hope for that he could care for them all and pursue his personal happiness. Adam sighed to himself. The stony determination that had accompanied his line of thought did not want to stick. No matter how many time he tried to guild his mind in good sense he was immediately stung by sadness, and a little bothersome voice that sounded rather similar to Nathaniel Sewell asking “ _What about_ her _happiness?”_. He used to squash it by insisting that he did not have the ability to make her happy. However, he was brought back to the moment he was in. How this little acquiescence, this small favour he was doing for her, had caused her to light up with joy. Immediately he was overwhelmed with every memory of a kind word that had made her smile at him, every time they had sunk into _easy_ coexistence and forgot they were meant to be holding back. He had never met anyone that made him utterly forget himself. Even Nate, his _best friend_ , a man who had known him for centuries, still had to work to get him to be forthright at times.

He directed his attention back through the trees, realising that she should probably have emerged by now. He felt a nervous prickle up the back of his neck after a few moments and closed his eyes to see if he could hear her. His body moved automatically when he realised that he could not, descending the scaffold by flinging himself one-handed over the railing, and hitting the ground in a three-point stance, dirtying the knee of the combat trousers he was wearing. He took off into the trees, sprinting at full pelt and making surgically precise use of his senses to locate her. He picked up her scent before anything else, and less than five seconds from the moment he had thrown himself off a building, he was at her side.

She jumped as he appeared, slapping a hand against her chest and yelping with the shock of it.

“Fuck! Jesus, you can’t _do that!”_ she bent forward slightly from the mini-fatigue following the shot of adrenaline his sudden appearance had caused to rip through her.

“I couldn’t hear you”, he stated, his own eyes still a little wild. He looked around her for any sign of what might have delayed her, grasping her upper arms and pulling her well inside his sphere of reach, eyes scanning the vicinity for any trace of a threat. She let out a heavy breath.

“I saw a deer”.

“What?” he said, hardly paying attention, still scouting for foes. He could see leaves twitching across the small clearing they were in.

“A _deer,_ Adam!” she was laughing. He frowned down at her, still gripping her arms, trying to marry her mirth with the obvious peril of her circumstances.

“…you saw a deer”, he repeated, evenly.

“Yes, and I stopped to look at it”, she said, slowly, giving him time to catch up. She looked pointedly at the place he had seen activity in the bushes. It still took him a second, but he got there. He released one of her arms to slap a hand over his eyes, squeezing his temples and releasing an exasperated breath. Madchen reached up and patted him amiably on the shoulder.

“You did an excellent job watching out for me”. He shot an unimpressed look at her, and even though he could tell she was mostly making fun of him, there was a drop of genuine kindness in her words.

“Let's go back”, he said, feeling extremely tired. In the back of his mind, he noted that he needed to get out and do more sprints.

“Sure. I think it's likely you’ll have a training room to put back in order”. Adam sighed. He would definitely need to make some apology for that…maybe he could add some fancy new gear to an agency requisition and agree not to use it. He felt Madchen run her hand down his arm from where it had been at rest on his shoulder. The sensation caused a small shiver to erupt down his spine. She began to step back towards the facility, pulling at his hand a little as her fingers left his, motivating him to move. He paused for a moment to dust off the knee of his trousers, before following. His longer legs enabled him to catch up to walk beside her. Her steps were a little laboured, her legs no doubt feeling rather heavy after running for an hour. When they reached the gates she took a long drink of water from the sports bottle she left on the ground and then hooked her fingers in the chain link to balance as she did some cool-down stretches. Adam leaned his back against the fence, crossing his arms and looking towards the woods. He closed his eyes and used the quiet moment and the pleasant feeling of fresh air to centre himself.

He emptied his mind, concentrating on the smell of the pines, and the sound of the breeze passing through the foliage. He pushed his senses further, listening to things farther from him, trying to picture them. Birds, insects, water flowing over rocks. He felt his heart rate slow, and his shoulders lose some tension. He wasn’t sure how long he indulged in the small meditation, but when he opened his eyes he felt curiously renewed. Perhaps he would make this a habit.

He looked to where Madchen had been stretching and found her mirroring his posture, staring out into the trees. She was not crossing her arms as much as it was clear she was trying to retain some warmth, the evening air now becoming quite chilled. She was dressed in only a tank top and running shorts. He wondered why she hadn’t interrupted his contemplation to get in from the cold. She had left her access card inside, since her training outfit did not have pockets, and he would have his. He was both a small bit annoyed and deeply touched that she would stand there and not question or disturb his peace.

“Ready?” she asked him, shoulders pulled up to her ears as she rubbed her arms.

“You should have let me know you had finished”, he said to her, unclipping his card from the end of his lanyard. She shrugged.

“I thought whatever you were doing was doing you some good”. He did not respond to her as he swiped the card to get them access, unwilling to thank her as despite his gratitude he was still mad that she let herself get cold.

They did not exchange any more words until they were both back inside the building proper.

“Thank you for that, Adam. I know it’s a silly thing, but it really does make a difference to me to do something for myself”. Perhaps it was just the flush that the cold had put in her cheeks, but he did consider her to look improved for the excursion. He gave her an affirming nod.

“We can try to make time for it as you need, if you feel it is of benefit”. She smiled and gave a nod of her own.

“Right”, she said, “I’ll see you later”. She paused. “Uh…good luck with the others”. Adam would have asked after that foreboding well wish but she was already walking away. He had considered that they would like to talk to him about his… _behaviour._ He would wait to see what they had to say, though he was given to excoriating Nate and Farah for meddling in his business. Hm. Perhaps he ought to try to speak with Nate first, and _he_ could deal with Farah. The training room he had already decided he would make amends for in a way Morgan would appreciate. She was most definitely a deeds person, unconvinced as himself by verbose gestures of contrition.

He didn’t have to look far for Nate, almost crashing into him as he turned the corner to go towards the training room. The man looked surprisingly sheepish, extending his hands in a gesture that Adam understood to mean _“please wait”_. He folded his arms, and came to a halt, his brows drawn at the other man.

“Adam, can I speak with you?” he asked, “I need to apologise”. Adam raised his eyebrows, saying nothing but giving Nate the space to proceed. “I…could we go to the library?” He looked about the hallway, the subtext in his actions hinting that he did not want to be overheard. Specifically by Farah. The library would be the last place they would be thus disturbed.

“Alright”, Adam agreed. They walked in silence, meeting no one in the halls before they came to the library doors.

Inside, Adam remained standing, arms folded and jaw clenched. Nate sighed heavily and looked regretful.

“I realise what I said earlier upset you. I should not have tried to make light of the situation knowing how difficult it is for you.” Adam nodded, accepting everything that had been admitted so far. Nate continued “…but how you reacted…I have seen you annoyed, friend, but I never thought a bit of teasing would provoke you to _that_ extent”. Adam’s nostrils flared slightly and he opened his mouth to retort, but Nate cut him off. “I-, please Adam, let me finish. I asked Madchen what happened”.

Adam’s blood ran cold. What had she said? Nate’s awkward expression gave him no indication of what he knew or did not know. Adam began forming and rejecting every combination of possible responses to possible scenarios in his head, trying in vain to prepare for the next thing that came out of Nate’s mouth.

“She told me…she told me that you _had_ kissed her and that she had reacted badly”. Hearing the whole summary of the incident told so concisely and so baldly was like a punch in Adam’s gut. In truth, he hadn’t really processed her reaction as he had been so focussed on regretting that it had happened at all. Adam broke eye contact with his friend, looking away in humiliation. Nate took a gentle step forward. “I didn’t realise-…if I had known-…I assumed-…” Nate stumbled into an abrupt silence, unable to find adequate words. “I am sorry”, he said, after a moment.

Adam did not look up right away. He felt a hideous mixture of shame and grief, just as he had last night after it had happened. He was grateful to Nate for having this conversation with him. At least he knew now that someone else understood.

“She did ask me to tell you that…she was sorry for how she reacted”. The words came to Adam’s ear through a fog of pain, and he did not quite register them at first. “She said it caught her off-guard and she regrets not speaking to you about it, but she feels embarrassed for running away”. Adam finally raised his eyes to look at Nate, who was watching him intently, presumably trying to measure Adam’s reaction to the news. Adam did not know what Nate expected him to do with this information. It did not take away from anything that had transpired. Nate moved yet closer, now a normal conversational distance away from his friend.

“I…I really think you ought to speak with her about it”, he suggested, tentatively. Adam dropped his arms, his pain now worn rather openly on his face. He avoided Nate’s imploring look. Nate placed a reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder. “It is your choice…but I _really_ think you ought to speak with her”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact this was supposed to be a one shot and I wrote 20k words.


End file.
